


Late dinners and early breakfasts

by choppedmint (forevermint)



Series: The Road Not Taken [20]
Category: The Morganville Vampires - Rachel Caine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forevermint/pseuds/choppedmint
Summary: ORIGIN "Midnight snacks: Late dinners and early breakfasts": I don’t know how this worked out. It was probably as close as I could get to tying up loose ends. I needed some reconciliation. And, I thought to myself, Myrnin has a time machine. Originally, the predominate Myrnin in this story (the one who is from Arthur’s future) was just the Myrnin of that time. But then I started lapsing into the sort of speak Myrnin of modern times would use and the actions he would have. The filler story became a bit more important. Because now there were two Myrnins. And one had something to say. I also used this as a way to explain the corgi disappearing - and showing that old-world Myrnin wasn’t stupid. He knew, or at least thought he knew, what was going on. He just thought he was being completely ridiculous. Arthur was never the wiser.
Relationships: Myrnin (Morganville Vampires)/Arthur Dee
Series: The Road Not Taken [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558276
Kudos: 1





	Late dinners and early breakfasts

“This is an inhuman hour,” said Arthur to what he thought was an empty house.  
“Why are you up then?” joked Myrnin from the darkness. Arthur almost jumped out of his skin in surprise. “Usually you’re all for going to bed before the sun even sets.”  
Arthur scowled, leaning against the wall. He had to catch his breath after that. He missed the fact that Myrnin’s voice was a bit … off.  
The shop was dark, all the candles that he would have lit left dark. Myrnin claimed to have memorized the layout of the house and didn’t need them. But Arthur did, and he’d lived here a lot longer than Myrnin had. He slowly inched his way along the wall, feeling for one of his shelves.  
“The dog’s sleeping about two inches from your left foot,” Myrnin commented in an offhand fashion. Arthur completely froze. Slowly, he shuffled his foot until he could feel the press of a small body against his calf. It breathed in and out in sleep, dead to the world. He very carefully stepped over the dog, which never woke up. From there, he could get a hold of some candles. He looked back, unable to pinpoint where Myrnin was based on voice alone.  
“What are you doing up anyway? Couldn’t sleep?”  
“Early breakfast,” said Myrnin dismissively, words hitching. Arthur wasn’t paying attention. Myrnin seemed to think over his next words for a very, very long time. Something Arthur had never really seen him do before. Like he was searching for a memory. “How’s the widow doing?”  
“She isn’t a widow yet,” Arthur complained, pushing the uncharacteristic actions out of his mind. He turned around with a light. Myrnin had his eyes closed and was perched at the edge of the table. His legs swung, banging into the legs of the table. He opened his eyes slowly now the flame lit up most of the room. He eyed the candle with a wariness he seemed to give all open flames. His expression was blank, yet another thing Arthur wasn’t used to seeing. Then he said, “… My apologies. I didn’t mean to doubt your skills. I’m sure things shall be fine.”  
Arthur set the candle down on the table, shrugging, but looking over at Myrnin with hesitation. He wasn’t dressed for sleeping, that was for sure. The clothing was stiff, blue, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen Myrnin wear it. “My skills were not what my complaint was about. But what have you? She’s doing alright. He is not. I’ll check on him in the morning … or when the sun is up at least.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, too tired to care.  
“Yes,” Myrnin mused, looking skyward. He had a faraway look for an expression. Almost sad.  
“Where’s this early meal of yours?” Arthur was fairly hungry himself. But he couldn’t see anything on the table. But it seemed a safer topic and less likely to get a weird reaction.  
Myrnin looked around, as if he wasn’t sure what he’d done with the food, then waved in the direction of where Arthur kept anything edible. “I hadn’t gotten it out yet.”  
Arthur raised his eyebrows at this. It was a lie, but he had no reason to believe Myrnin hadn’t eaten _anything_. So why was he up?  
Was Myrnin somehow waiting up for him? A bit out of character, but Myrnin’s character fluctuated like the tides of the sea. Maybe that was what this was about.  
“I’ll get us both something then, shan’t I?”  
Elbows braced on his knees, Myrnin nodded slowly. Then a small smile brushed across his lips and he looked toward the floor. “Sounds fine by me. … Thank you, Arthur Dee.”  
Arthur frowned, finding that a rather odd statement. He walked toward where there was some bread and other food set out on the counter. “Thanks for what? I haven’t done anything.”  
He heard the sound of movement behind him. But when he looked back, the room was empty ...  
The dog was gone as well, for that matter. Myrnin wasn’t there and Arthur turned, looking to the other door. Then he walked slowly back in the direction he’d come, opening the back door. Nothing.  
“Myrnin?” he asked. The moon was high above his head, lighting up the back street. For a second, he thought he say movement in an alley. A boy, looking at him from down the street, with a darker shadow behind him. The shadow was about Myrnin’s height and Arthur was about to call out, hesitant, when the boy stepped back and was gone. Arthur blinked several times, trying to search the lee of the buildings across the way.  
There was a sharp tap on his shoulders.  
“Ahhhhh!” Arthur shouted, leaping out of the door and turning on his heals.  
Myrnin!  
“What the hell did you do that for?” said Arthur, practically shouting, a hand pressed to his chest as he tried to keep his heart in his body.  
The man looked … different, somehow. He was wearing different clothing, for starters. A loose white shirt. He also had a very nice case of bedhead. “You …” he took a step backward, sounding hesitant. “You said my name. I just came …” And there was the same demeanor, back again. “What’s the matter?”  
“Of course, I said your name,” snapped Arthur. “You just disappeared on me. What did you do? Go back and change? Ruffle up your hair?”  
Myrnin looked confused, then he seemed to sniff the air. The expression of confusion remained, but it morphed, if possible, into a different type. “Disappeared on you?”  
“Yeah!” snapped Arthur. “You were saying something weird about thanking me and then I turn my back and you and the dog are gone! Is the dog with you, by the way?”  
He looked past Myrnin, back into the house. He didn’t see her.  
Myrnin stepped back, letting Arthur come into the house again. For a second, Arthur thought he saw the man look in the direction of the alley that the boy and the shadow had been in. But then his gaze returned to Arthur.  
“Dog? Oh. Yes. She’s … in another room.” His attention moved again, and he wasn’t looking at Arthur. Arthur was still trying to shake off the effects of Myrnin sneaking up on him.  
“I think I’ve found a house for her too,” Myrnin mused, absentmindedly.  
“You did?” said Arthur, suddenly distracted from reprimanding Myrnin for his disappearing act. Myrnin smoothed down his white shirt, still not meeting Arthur’s eyes. “Yes, I think so. I’ll have to see tomorrow. You haven’t eaten?”  
Arthur felt like he should be having a headache. Maybe it was the long night. But he walked back toward the food he’d been about to get out. “No, I haven’t. I just said that. Are you going to join me or not?”  
Myrnin was still looking at the door, a slightly mystified look on his face. “Hum? Oh. Yes, yes of course. Late night snacks. Sounds great.”

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGIN "Midnight snacks: Late dinners and early breakfasts": I don’t know how this worked out. It was probably as close as I could get to tying up loose ends. I needed some reconciliation. And, I thought to myself, Myrnin has a time machine. Originally, the predominate Myrnin in this story (the one who is from Arthur’s future) was just the Myrnin of that time. But then I started lapsing into the sort of speak Myrnin of modern times would use and the actions he would have. The filler story became a bit more important. Because now there were two Myrnins. And one had something to say. I also used this as a way to explain the corgi disappearing - and showing that old-world Myrnin wasn’t stupid. He knew, or at least thought he knew, what was going on. He just thought he was being completely ridiculous. Arthur was never the wiser.


End file.
